


Catch a Break

by PokeChan



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: 2017 KuroFai Olympics, Bittersweet Ending, Hallucinations, KuroFai Olympics, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Team Dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokeChan/pseuds/PokeChan
Summary: when it rains it pours:[proverb]misfortunes or difficult situations tend to follow each other in rapid succession or to arrive all at the same time.





	Catch a Break

**Author's Note:**

> Did I finish writing this with only a few hours left to post it without a penalty? Maybe but you can't prove anything. If you're reading this and voting is this open please give this fic a vote and support Team Dragon in this years KuroFai Olympics and I'll see you next year!
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> [Follow this link to the KuroFai DW!](http://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/101693.html)
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> If voting is closed consider dropping a comment because those make my day! <3

There’s something in the air that’s more than the unrelenting rain and heavy heat, even Kurogane can feel it. Mokona says it might be a feather, scrunches her little face and tries her best to sense the direction the strange power is coming from, but it feels like they’re surrounded by it. So they make their way through the wilds and find a village -- stood on poles and made up in trees far above the ground that is quickly becoming more of a river in its own right than land -- and by the grace of Fai’s silver tongue and the children’s earnest sincerity they are given a small hut and the somber faces of those who direct them to it keep them from asking why it is empty in the first place.

The hut leaks and smells of must and mildew. It’s too hot and too cold all at once and its single room allows for no privacy. Still, Kurogane thinks, it’s better than nothing. 

The rain never stops. The are times where it slows until it’s a casual fall and the villagers venture out and attempt to do what needs getting done. They all follow suit. Syaoran and Sakura go around and speak to people, their sweet faces and wide-eyed innocence earning them trust. Kurogane tries his damnedest to patch the holes in their roof, hoping to make their living situation at least a little more comfortable for the time being. He’s sure he’ll be forced to make repairs regularly. Knowing all too well how useless Fai will be with any sort of manual labor, Kurogane sends him into the village as well to ask about food and drinking water. 

By the time the rains pick up again during the height of the day Kurogane’s managed to stop all but one leak in their roof and Fai’s returned with a basket of fruits and a water pot in exchange for the promise of future help gathering. The children, unfortunately, return empty handed.

“All anyone told us was that this was the season of rains,” Syaoran says, frowning at the pale yellow fruit he holds in his hands. “It had been a rough dry season, but the older villagers had said the land is known to test its people.”

Kurogane nods. “Some years are leaner than others,” he agrees. “Not exactly out of the ordinary.”

“The local legends didn’t seem to hold any clues either,” Sakura says mournfully around a fruit that had reminded her of the apples from Clow. “The one they speak about most is of the Rainbringer, and we’re seeing that first hand right now.”

There’s nothing to be done at the moment, so Kurogane doesn’t complain when Fai distracts with his usual antics and gets the boy and the princess laughing. While they all do that, Kurogane ventures out into the downpour in search of a pot to catch the leak he couldn’t seal. Eventually, he’s pointed towards several discarded ones and manages to pick out one with a crack near the top rather than the bottom.

He’s soaked to the bone when he returns and Mokona spits up a fluffy towel into his face as soon as he hands the pot to Fai. 

After that, there’s not much else to do, so they try to find dry spots on the floor and settle down for the night. They’ll need their rest. In a world like this you work for your share. 

That night Kurogane dreams of sunshine and his mother. He wakes up before sunrise to water dripping onto his face.

The rain continues to fall and soon after the day has properly begun fishermen from the village ask for one of them to come and help them. There is a dam that needs repairs and they’re willing to take this help over help foraging for fruits and nuts. 

“Kurogane-san are you sure?” Sakura asks, eyeing the storm outside. Memory or no, she’s probably never seen so much water fall in her life.

“Please, I should go,” Syaoran says again. Kurogane shushes him with a hand on his head. He’s from a desert as well, no matter how much he might have traveled, and Kurogane is not about to throw Syaoran into rising rapids with only determination and strangers to protect him. The conversation has already been had and it is over, whether Syaoran realizes it or not.

For his part, Fai does a fairly good job at waving him off cheerily. There’s all the fluff and bravado as usual, even though Kurogane can sense how uneasy the storm and the idea of Kurogane going out into is making him. “Come back soon,” Fai says and Kurogane’s heart skips a beat at the way his smile dims to something more real and intimate when Fai steps closer.

Months in Yama did many things to them, some of them good. They understand each other in ways that words could never have given them. Kurogane doesn’t know how Fai truly feels about that, but he’s thankful for it. They’re close, they’re connected. 

He steps closer to Fai, reaches up to touch his hair and twirls the ends of it loosely around his fingers. “I’ll be back,” he says. He doesn’t lean down to kiss Fai, releases his hair and turns to leave with the waiting fishers, but his chest warms like a family’s hearth in winter. Kurogane doesn’t miss the curious looks Sakura and Syaoran toss him, but he has no intention of volunteering information if they aren’t going to ask for it, and Fai is free to tell them whatever he pleases. Kurogane has already warned him that he refuses to lie.

Kurogane is only a few steps out the door when Fai calls for him. Before he knows what’s happening Mokona is slipped into his raincoat where she burrows happily. “Take Mokona with you,” Fai says. “We don’t know how far you’re going, and it’s more important for you to be able to understand them than for us to be able to speak to each other.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care, Kuro-chu,” Fai says. His smile is bright and playful, but his eyes are warm.

The rowboats are impressive. They’re sturdier than Kurogane expected and look almost like they’re meant to be used in rapids like the ones growing near the village. They have canopies to keep the rainwater out and buoys to keep them steady and afloat. Two of the boats are filled with four people apiece along with several coils of rope and a quiver of arrows and bows for what must be protection against the native animals. The third boat holds only two people and several wooden boards and logs and still more rope. The people here are well prepared and Kurogane boards without hesitation and surveys the flooded land as they row to the dam.

“Say, traveler,” asks a boy after many long minutes who cannot be a day older than Syaoran, “does it ran like this where you come from?” 

His dark eyes are wide and sparkling with curiosity and it’s clear these people do not see visitors often. He’s gangly in the way that speaks of quick and awkward growth and Kurogane can tell he will be a tall man one day, though right now he’s about the same height as Sakura, if that. He’s the only one who has spoken during the trip. 

“Not like this, no,” Kurogane offers. “My country has a rainy season, but I’ve never seen it rain so much at once before.”

The boy nods and looks out over the floods. “Me either,” he admits. “The rains usually move on by now before the floods get this high. My sister says it’s because we begged the Rainbringer too much during the dry season and angered them.”

“Mikau!” snaps one of the older men from the front of the boat. “Quiet with your nonsense or the spirits really will be in a foul mood!”

The boy, Mikau, ducks his head in shame and doesn’t speak again. It’s unfortunate, though, because from what Kurogane has experienced on this journey so far an upset guardian is very often one of the princess’ feathers run amok. He makes a mental note to pull Mikau aside when they return to the village and ask him for more details.

It doesn’t take them long before they’re within sight of the dam. It’s not a terribly large thing, practically nothing to the mountain-sized one they had seen a few worlds back, but it does look worse for wear. There’s already a steady flow of water running over the top of it and part of it had already fallen to be washed away by the currents. 

“It’s worse than I thought,” says a man next to Kurogane. “Chief, I don’t think repair is an option.”

The older man from before snorts and doesn’t even bother to look back. From Kurogane’s position he can see that the man’s eyes are hard. “You young folk these days,” he mutters, “all the same, so ready to give up and accept defeat. We’ll be lucky that the next generation doesn’t get taken away by the rains.”

“Chief, it’s already falling apart,” the man tries again. “We should turn back and warn the village.”

Still, the chief turns a deaf ear to the man. “There will be nothing to warn them of once we do what we’ve set out to do, Jabu.”

His words ring with a dangerous finality and Jabu sits back down but not without looking at Kurogane and making one last comment. “I hope you’re a strong swimmer, traveler.”

Kurogane isn’t sure what the chief is planning to do. Without the rains stopping he can’t see a way to get through the rushing water to get close enough to even try to fix the dam, let alone actually be able to get anything to hold and keep in place. He watches as the three boats are pulled up to a small bunch of thick trees, their sturdy branches perfect for docking and the ropes woven thick enough that there’s no worry of them snapping. 

More lengths of rope are passed around. Kurogane is charged with carrying several planks of wood and follows the villagers over a system of tree roots that double as a pathway. Each step is precarious, the bark of the roots is thin and overgrown with soaking wet moss and lichen. It’s all too easy to slip and fall into the water below. 

“Mokona doesn’t think the dam is going to last very long,” Mokona says from inside Kurogane’s clothes. “Kurogane needs to be very, _very_ careful.”

“Don’t worry, manjuu,” Kurogane says, watching a few of the people ahead of him stumble before righting themselves. “I’ll be fine. A little water’s never hurt me.”

He can feel Mokona nuzzling him and only doesn’t swat at her because he needs to focus on walking. And that’s the only reason.

When he draws even with the dam there are two ropes strung across the mouth of the reservoir. He looks and can see two arrows stuck into the trunk of a tree on the other side. At the edge of the crumbling dam Mikau is having a rope tied around his waist. Something inside of Kurogane panics, the same thing that worries when Syaoran leaps unnecessarily into danger or when Sakura falls asleep midtask after pushing herself too hard. He wants to stop what he knows is about to happen because it’s foolishly dangerous and Mikau is young and Kurogane is soft.

His ability to control himself seems to have left him, because before he knows it he’s grabbed the wrist of one of the men tying the last knot of Mikau’s makeshift harness. “What the hell are you doing? That thing is really going to come crashing down, he’ll die if it does!”

The water is sloshing and rushing with the need to be free, dark and muddy and threatening. Even Kurogane wouldn’t want to get caught up in it. 

The chief, predictably, is the one to speak up, pulling Kurogane’s head away and nodding for one of the archers to aim her arrow at him. “He’ll be fine so long as he holds onto the ropes we’ve sent across. We have repaired the dam this way for generations, there’s no need for us to change it now for the sake of a stranger’s nerves.”

From behind the chief Mikau looks up at Kurogane and gives him a shaky smile. There is no confidence in it, but there is hope, and as he turns to face the swaying ropes his eyes are bright with courage. 

Minutes feel like hours as they watch the boy shimmy his way to the other side and resecure the ropes before repairs begin in earnest. A second person is also harnessed up, a short but stocky woman who had been helping steer the lumber boat. She is the halfway point between the shore and Mikau and seems almost at home balanced on the ropes, even going so far as to smile and wave cheerily back at her fellows back on shore. 

“Okay, traveler,” the chief says. “Kurogane, right? You’re going to help carry over lumber to Oren and Mikau, just follow instructions.”

Still dubious about their chances to save the dam, Kurogane figures the quicker they get to work the better their chances, so he does as he’s instructed and keeps his complains quiet enough that the rushing water and pelting rain muffle them. 

He’s the last in what is essentially a production line, handing panels of building material to Oren, who is impressively deft in handling everything even while soaked to the bone and balanced in midair. Mikau starts off much less sure of himself, but with encouraging words from Oren he soon finds a rhythm and for a time it seems like the chief might be right after all and the dam might be salvageable until there is a thunderous sound like the roar of a beast that has them all freezing in place.

The sound echos and Kurogane swears he can see dark shapes with hungry eyes moving in the water, but they’re gone before he can get a better look. For a few seconds there’s nothing but the rain and then, suddenly, a thick tree trunk breaks the surface of the water and it’s rushing towards them all.

Kurogane has enough time to connect the fallen tree with the crashing sound they had all just heard before everything else catches up and he snaps out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into, just standing around staring at the water like a fool.

“Get back over here!” he shouts. “That thing is going to crash into us!”

Oren’s already moving, but Mikau is still frozen, his eyes wide and glossed over, transfixed on the tree trunk rushing towards him. “Mikau!” Oren calls once she reaches shore and realizes her partner hasn’t even moved an inch. “Hurry up!”

There’s no time left, even if Mikau could run he wouldn’t make it in time to avoid falling into the rapids. Kurogane moves more on instinct than thought and grabs the rope that’s tied onto Mikau and pulls. The boy doesn’t latch on to the other ropes and he’s sure to have some bruises and cuts from the rough treatment, but Kurogane’s pulling him out of the water just as the fallen tree is smashing apart the dam and releasing a wave of debris-ridden flood water. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Mikau is saying, obviously shaken. Mokona pokes herself out to get a better look at Mikau, concerned as always. “I don’t know what happened. I just… blanked and…”

There isn’t a chance to catch the rest of Mikau’s explanation. The makeshift rope bridge snaps as debris catches on it and to Kurogane’s horror it catches Mokona and flings her into the river before Kurogane can grab her.

“Kurogane!” she cries.

“Manjuu!”

He’s in the water before the thought even occurs to him. The world around him is muted. All he can hear is his own thundering heartbeat and a chorus of _no no no_ wailing in his head.

Something solid strikes him in the side as soon as he breaks the surface and leaves him breathless from the go. There’s nothing but chaos around him and for a few long, terrifying seconds Kurogane honestly believes that he’s lost Mokona for good, but then there’s a tiny flash of white and not a force in the universe is powerful enough to hold Kurogane back. 

Mokona is in his hand and she clings to his thumb for dear life as he tries desperately to grab onto a low hanging branch or one of the oddly high rising roots of the trees. He’s fighting the current, helpless to dodge anything it might sweep his way. He’s swallowing more water than air with one hand pulled close to his chest, palm warm with Mokona’s wet fur, he’s amazed he hasn’t been dragged below the surface for good already.

The world is quickly darkening around the edges and Kurogane knows unconsciousness is only moments from enveloping him. In a last ditch bid to save at least one of them Kurogane tosses Mokona up and watches, satisfied, as she catches herself on a sagging vine and scrambles onto a tree branch before she turns back to call for him.

Sound is gone though. There’s nothing but the muffled roar of water anymore and it is sheer willpower and stubbornness that keeps him holding onto the root. There’s no telling how long he sits in the flood waters. They never slow and he doesn’t have the strength to pull himself any higher to keep himself from swallowing water with each breath, but eventually Mokona calls for someone’s attention and then there are hands on Kurogane and voices all around him. 

He coughs up water and a few leaves and Mokona cries against his face until he loses all of his strength and collapses to the floor of the boat he was hauled on to. He sees Jabu and Oren and several others and he can hear Mikau apologizing over the dull thundering of the rain. He thinks he’s given a blanket and the boat jostles against the push of the flood.

It doesn’t even occur to him to figure out where they’re headed, away from or towards the village. At the moment the only things on his mind are the shapes he sees lurking between the trees. They’re huge and black and Kurogane can feel their eyes on the boats. He doesn’t understand why no one else is concerned about them, the demons are huge and they’re watching them. Just one swipe of those massive claws would be enough to send them all back into the water, they spell certain death, and yet no one bats an eye. Mokona, Oren, and Mikau continue to fuss over Kurogane as he fades in and out of consciousness. 

He thinks he manages to warn them, he can feel the words fall from his mouth, he’s so _sure_ of it, but no one looks frightened, they don’t scream to paddle faster, Mokona doesn’t bring forth Souhi. They only look down at him confused and then back at each other. 

The demons are getting closer. They’re growing in number. Kurogane doesn’t remember getting from the boats back to the hut.

Mikau is talking to Syaoran and Sakura, Mokona is too, he can hear her even if he can’t see her. He doesn’t know where Fai is, surely close by. He can see the demons through the open doorway. He needs Souhi and he says as much.

“Kurogane-san,” Syaoran says and Kurogane wonders why he looks so damn perplexed. “You have to stay here, Mikau-kun is going to show us to the Rainbringer’s temple.”

“You’re not going out there alone,” he says.

Time and again Kurogane has allowed Syaoran and Sakura both to prove themselves, knows how important it is to both of them. He encourages them to push their limits, he respects their wishes to test themselves and knows it’s how a child improves, but not this time. Not against those demons. He remembers his home in ruins and he can practically see the blood on his father’s face. These children are too precious to him and there is no point in testing themselves if they will be dead before they can overcome a challenge . 

“You’re not well,” Sakura says. She looks scared and the fear in her eyes only strengthens Kurogane’s resolve to accompany them to the temple. “Syaoran-kun and I will be fine, we’ll have Moko-chan with us, stay here.”

“Manjuu, give me Souhi,” he demands. “Now.”

Mokona refuses, but before Kurogane can argue someone else speaks. “Go on, the sooner you fix this the better, I’ll look after him.”

He catches the hesitant looks on Sakura and Syaoran’s faces but they take their chance to escape when Kurogane turns to face whoever it was who spoke and freezes in place.

Kurogane cannot see spirits or phantoms The dead are gone to him completely, but there, as plain as day, stands his mother in front of him. She looks as beautiful as he remembers, even in this musty little hut so far away from home. She looks so real, there’s no otherworldly glow, she doesn’t float or fade from view. His mother is there, like she hasn’t been in years. 

Words fail him for he doesn’t know how long before he gives up on asking all of the questions that are swarming his mind in favor of choking out a weak, hoarse “Mother?”

The words seems to break her heart as much as it breaks his. She crosses the room to him and in the faint light it takes until they are face to face for him to see that she bares none of the wounds that she had died with. She’s whole. “What are you seeing out there?” she asks.

“Damn!” he curses and turns. If he moves quickly he should be able to find and catch up to the others. Syaoran and Fai can fight, but those demons-- no! No. He’ll go to them. He’ll cut down every last one of those monsters. 

Except his mother grabs his wrist and stops him. 

He’s taller than her now, larger and stronger, but he has no strength in the face of her stern eyes. Just like that he’s a boy again and all he can do is try to make his case and get permission. 

“They need me!” he insists. “They can’t fight those demons alone! I have to help them, I can’t let them get hurt. Not like-” His words die on his tongue and stay there, thick and heavy like mud. He can’t say it. 

Not like you. Not like Father.

“The demons can’t hurt them,” his mother says slowly, and Kurogane feels slightly patronized. “These demons can’t hurt anyone.” 

She sounds so sure.

“How do you know?” he asks. He can’t risk their lives on a whim. He’s finally found people to love again, he won’t lose them, not when he has the strength to protect them. 

There’s the slightest moment of hesitance before she smiles up at him and cups his face in her hands. “Don’t you trust your mother?” He does. Without question. “Come sit with me and wait. You’ll only get lost with how far ahead of you they are. Tell me about them.”

He doesn’t understand why she’s so insistent that he stay in the hut, but he does as she asks and sits with her, and if he leans into her and closes his eyes while remembering the last time he was able to do such a thing no one could possibly fault him. She takes his hand in hers and it’s warm and alive and something in Kurogane screams that this is wrong and impossible, but it’s quiet and far away and soon it’s silenced altogether.

Sakura is the first one he tells her about. He could go on for days about the princess and her endless qualities of selfless bravery and boundless strength. She’s sharp and quick witted and her sense of humor is a mix of high class evening chitter and barack wisecracks. He tells his mother about how her smile gets brighter every day and how kind she was with only the smallest fraction of her soul in place. The amount of pride he has for her cannot be summed up in words alone. He can tell his mother already adores her.

He talks about Syaoran next, about his determination and courage. He admits his hopes that Syaoran and Sakura will one day return home and find the happiness that they deserve together, with new memories and a new relationship between them. He tells his mother about how he is training Syaoran to use a sword, tries to sound casual when he mentions his father. He doesn’t mention how Syaoran reminds Kurogane of himself as a child, his mother’s quiet laughter tells him he probably doesn’t have to. He tells her that Syaoran is a good child, she agrees.

Even Mokona comes up. Kurogane tells his mother about her strange powers and sometimes unnerving insight. She’s a clever little thing, considering that she looks like she’s meant to be steamed and eaten in a few measly bites. He admits that he’s very fond of her and how terrified he’d felt when she’d fallen into the water.

“It’s a lovely little family you have,” his mother says. She sounds wistful and her far away look reminds Kurogane that, no matter what is happening at the moment, she’s gone from him and she’ll never be able to truly get to know these people.

“There’s one more.” Kurogane looks away. He can feel his ears burning but she wanted to hear about them all.

Despite what Kurogane would like to have said about Fai, he starts off with insults. He calls the man a fool and a coward and infuriating. In the very same breath he calls him beautiful. He talks about how much Fai loves the children, how much better he is at soothing their worries than Kurogane is, a naturally calming presence. He recounts to her their time in Yama and how easy it was to trust Fai, what if felt like to be reassured by his presence at Kurogane’s back. 

As he speaks the world buzzs and his vision swims. Something is happening and a small voice in the back of Kurogane’s mind tells him to shut his mouth, an urgent little warning that he didn’t want to continue speaking, but still he speaks. He cannot keep these words and feelings about Fai back any longer. Someone other than him has to know about this man. He won’t burden the children, and Fai won’t listen to him. His mother will though.

“He’s running from something and never wants to go home, I want him to come home with me,” Kurogane says, wincing through a drilling pain in his temples. “I’m in love with him.”

There’s no more hiding the pain his head and he lurches forward as a searing pain slices through his skull, sharper than any blade. At te same time it feels as though something is trying to claw its way free from within his head. He feels his mother move to stop him from falling to the ground, but he doesn’t hear her speak.

“Kuro-sama!” When did Fai get back? “Hold on a bit longer, the children will have the feather soon.”

Kurogane doesn’t know what his pain has to do with the princess’ feather. There’s too much assaulting his senses for him to try and figure it out either. The pain is only growing worse with each second and from outside the hut he can hear the people of the village crying out as well. He’s quickly lost to a fog of pain and confusion as he loses his grip on the world around him, even as he fights to win against the rising tide of it all. 

He barely manages to pry his eyes open and the figure he sees above him blurs horribly, shifting like they’re a reflection on rippling water. One second he thinks he sees his mother again, another he sees a deformed, humanoid monster, the next it’s Fai. Soon enough, though, everything is dark.

Demons slink in and out of shadows darker than black. Every breath is filled with shards of glass. The air is thick with smoke and screams. Kurogane struggles towards the gentle pinprick of pure, white light that whispers his name.

When he comes back to the waking world everything is quieter than he’s heard it since they had arrived in this world. Even the rain has been silenced. 

His head is aching, and as he reflects on the events of the last day his stomach flips sickeningly. He doesn’t know exactly what had happened, but he knows it was the doing of the feather’s magic. He had not seen any demons in the trees, nor had he seen his mother.

“Kurogane-san!” Sakura has her arms flung over his shoulders before he can even look over at her. She’s hugging him and apologizing and it takes a moment for his still muddled mind to catch up with her. “I’m so happy you’re okay!”

“Easy, princess,” he says, patting her head carefully and easing her back until he can see her. There are tears in her eyes and a bruise on her cheek. She’s covered in drying mud and tiny cuts and there’s a twig tangled up in her hair, making her look just a mess. “What is going on?”

“Sakura-chan’s feather was forcing the rains to remain stationary rather than move on like they should have,” Fai offers from the doorway. It only takes a glance to tell, but he looks uncomfortable and defensive. Kurogane’s stomach sinks like a lead weight. 

Syaoran enters the hut and exclaims his relief at Kurogane’s recovery as well. Sakura continues Fai’s explanation. “The people had been praying to the Rainbringer to end the drought. It was trying to answer their prayers by keeping Storm-san from moving on, but that wound up causing so much more trouble for everyone,” she says, crestfallen. Kurogane remembers Sakura speaking sweet, calming words to a trapped tornado several worlds ago and is reminded, not for the first or last time, how amazing she is. 

“The feather was also affecting the rainwater,” Syaoran adds. “You weren’t the only one who had begun hallucinating. Other villagers had begun seeing things as well. It seems that the longer they spent in the rain they worse their condition.”

Syaoran theorizes that Sakura was unaffected because the feather was hers anyway and that Fai having magic naturally protected him. The difference between Kurogane and Syaoran was only exposure. Kurogane had simply spent much more time in the rain, as well as diving into the flood to rescue Mokona, he’d been soaked in it. In the end he supposes it all makes sense.

“We’re going to make sure the other villagers are recovering well,” Sakura says. “Please rest, Kurogane-san.” The words themselves are a request, but the tone in which they are spoken make it clear that he is in no position to argue with his small princess. He promises to stay put and is rewarded with a smile that could make flowers grow. 

She and Syaoran leave with Mokona in tow. Fai stays behind at the children’s request, clearly distrusting of Kurogane to actually keep his word of resting, which he’s brought on himself in all fairness. At first Fai tells him what he’s missed -- the flood released by the broken dam had caused one of the housing blocks held up by stilts to fall and by the look on Fai’s face there had been casualties, there had been a landslide near the farmlands the villagers used and the threat of a famine was an ever growing concern for them, and on top of it all there was a sickness beginning to creep through the people near and far as told by message carrier. 

It seems like these people cannot catch a single break. Troubles keep mounting one atop the other and part of Kurogane wishes they could do something for them all, but he knows they will all be on their way soon. They have their own worries and goals to be concerned about. They aren’t here to fix the problems of every world they fall into. It’s callous, but necessary. 

Once the news runs out an awkward silence falls. Kurogane watches Fai open and close his mouth several times before he finally takes pity on the poor idiot. “I remember.”

Fai freezes and goes several shades paler, impressive considering his already ivory tone. “Oh.” He huffs out something that could have been a laugh in a past life and is all nerves. “I am truly sorry,” he starts and it’s not what Kurogane expects to hear at first, until he realizes what Fai is apologizing for. “I wouldn’t have gone along with the hallucination like that, but it seemed like the easiest way to keep you from getting yourself hurt again.”

Kurogane is oddly touched that Fai is bothering to apologize for playing into his hallucinations. 

“You have to understand, it wasn’t a joke to me at all, I promise-”

“It’s fine,” Kurogane interrupts, because it is. Fai’s other options would have been to let Kurogane foolishly go along with Sakura, Syaoran, and Mikau or try to keep him in the hut by force, neither of which would have ended well for them. “I didn’t exactly give you too many other options.”

If anything Kurogane feels the need to apologize to his mother for being unable to distinguish her spirit from a hallucination, but that’s neither here nor there. The air between them is still uneasy and awkward to the point that when Fai stands to excuse himself outside for some air Kurogane almost lets him go, just to escape it. Almost.

Sometimes he thinks he should learn to leave well enough alone. “Fai.”

Fai stops at the door and turns to face Kurogane but can’t, or simply won’t, make eye contact with him and it’s frustrating. Kurogane’s already accepted his apology, he understands why Fai did what he did and he’s not angry. He made it _so clear_. 

“Do you, uhm, remember-” Fai starts and then cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Nevermind. When the children get back we should move on, they’ll need this space for their own people.”

It’s a pathetic attempt at a subject change, he’s the tiniest bit insulted. “I know what I said to you,” Kurogane says. “And I meant it, even if I didn’t think I was saying it to you.” Fai finally looks at him then, eyes wide and expression warring between horrified and incredulous. “The only reason I haven’t told you already is because I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

Kurogane stands and clears the length of the hut in three long strides and reaches out to Fai, who flinches away before he realizes what he’s done. It’s all the answer Kurogane needs and he tries not to be hurt.

“Looks like I was right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to anyone who realized that I named all the OCs after Zora characters from the Legend of Zelda series.


End file.
